Absent Friends
by imloopy
Summary: FBI agents are turning up dead. Now Booth is missing. And Brennan has a body to work on...
1. Prologue

_They don't belong to me, sadly. And I don't make any money from this. I'm just playing for a while, and I'll put them back where I found them, honest._

_ To see the real characters, watch the Fox TV series. And to read a writer who's much better than me, you can't go far wrong with Kathy Reichs, who originally created Temperence Brennan._

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**Prologue Thursday 9.32pm**

FBI Agent Seeley Booth was bored. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, chewed on his fingernails, double checked his gun in its holster, and sighed. Even though he enjoyed most aspects of his job, surveillance – at least a boring surveillance job like this – was not one of them. He looked over again at the empty warehouse on the other side of the car park. Dark had fallen an hour ago, and he was sure that something was going to happen soon. He took out his phone and tapped his fingers on the buttons, running along the list of names. Who could he call? Cullen? He really didn't know any more whether he could trust him. Cotton? Hardly. Brennan? Booth considered for a moment. At least he knew he could trust Bones, but she'd made it clear earlier that she was busy. He didn't think she'd receive a phone call from him very well right now. He shook his head. She couldn't really help anyway. It was better to handle this on his own, at least for the present. He slid his phone back into his pocket.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Apart from that there was very little sound. Booth tilted his head back, easing the crick in his neck, then stiffened as he heard a car engine in the distance. Here in a deserted trading estate on the outskirts of Washington traffic was scarce, and it was a good bet that any car in the area was there for much the same reason as he was. He made sure that he was fully concealed behind the bush, and made ready to move quickly. He felt for his gun and eased it out of the holster, readying his thumb over the safety catch.

The car drew closer and stopped outside the old factory unit, only a hundred yards from his current position. He held himself still as a man climbed out of the driver's seat and made his way to the door. As he knocked on the door it was opened from within, and for a moment Booth could see the outline of the visitor before he headed inside.

He made sure the car was now empty, then moved closer to the building. If this was the meeting he was waiting for, and he was sure now that it was, then it was vital he put himself in a position to find out some real information.

He eased himself round the corner. The windows in the wall were high and barred, but as he crept further along he found a window with a faint glow coming from inside. The window was larger than the rest, with no bars, and he surmised that it belonged to the office part of the building. He crouched down, worked his way further forward and lifted himself up to peer through the grime on the window. He was rewarded with a glimpse of the man he had seen outside, arguing with someone just out of his line of sight. He could see the man's arms moving animatedly, and could just hear a low murmur, but no words reached him.

Absorbed in what he could see, and trying to recall where he knew the man from, he did not notice he had company until he felt the cold steel of a pistol barrel pressed under his right ear.

"Nice and slow," said a voice from just behind him. "Drop your gun, put your hands in the air and turn around slowly."

Booth stiffened, but the steady pressure of the pistol convinced him even more than the voice that his captor meant business. He did as he was told, glancing down regretfully at his gun as it landed on a small pile of leaves near his feet.

A hand reached down and claimed his gun, then the pistol jerked. "That way. Now." Booth slowly walked back the way he had crept, towards the door in the side of the building.

"I've got him!" Booth's captor yelled suddenly. Booth jumped, wondering who the shout was aimed at. He had his answer as another man appeared from the other side of the building and met them at the door. That was when Booth realised that they had been expecting him. Even after all his precautions, he had fallen into a trap. Not for the first time, he cursed the case that had brought him into this situation, forced to work on his own, not knowing who to trust.

"You took your time." the man who opened the door from the inside – Dopey, Booth mentally christened him – must have been the one already installed in the building when the second man arrived. He looked as if he had not slept in days, and sported stubble that was in the process of deciding to be a beard. Booth looked past him into the large, dark warehouse, and spied the door at the far end where the other man must be waiting. He reluctantly walked towards the door, prodded onwards by the pistol. While two men walked just behind him, cutting off his retreat, the third man stayed by the car. Booth was seriously worried now. He looked around as he walked, looking for any signs of the business the men had to have been conducting, but could see nothing obvious. The place was almost empty, apart from a few crates in one corner of the room and what looked like a pile of rags just behind them. He wondered what was in the crates. It could be the merchandise these men were trading in. He would give anything for a chance to look inside. Well, almost anything. He shrugged to himself, and then stared as the door in front of him swung further open and he saw the man framed in the doorway.

"Hello, Agent Booth," the man greeted him. His pointed nose and close-set, beady eyes under a crop of dark hair were ringing a whole peal of bells, but the face must be completely out of its usual context, and he could not work out where he had seen it before.

"How do you know me?" he demanded.

"Oh, Agent Booth, I'm well informed," the man chuckled. "I know of all those who present a threat to my operation. Your name, you might be interested to hear, was almost at the top of the list."

Booth tried to outstare the man. "Not top? I'm disappointed."

The man bared his teeth, then turned to Dopey. "Tie him up," he ordered. Dopey grabbed some narrow rope from a desk behind the door and proceeded to tie Booth's hands together, pulling the knots painfully tight. Booth winced, but the pistol barrel waved threateningly in his direction and he stood still again. He managed to turn himself half round, and looked at the man who had captured him.

"Johnson," he said in disgust. "When did you get yourself mixed up with this crowd? You really should be more careful about the company you keep."

Johnson just smiled unpleasantly back, indicating Beady-eyes with his gun. "Pays well," he said laconically.

"Yeah, but the penalties are pretty harsh. Ow!" Booth pulled away from Dopey, but found himself unable to move his hands. The ropes dug tightly into his wrists, threatening to cut off the circulation.

"So, what do we do now?" Johnson demanded of Beady-eyes, who just shrugged.

"I don't see we have a problem," he answered shortly. "We're just about finished here. We clear out and go."

"And him?" Dopey indicated Booth.

"Finish loading the cars first. Then check around, make sure there's no-one else around. Find his car and take it somewhere. Then remove anything that may identify him and kill him."

Booth sat and watched the men working, from the corner where Johnson had thrown him down, complete with a swift kick in the ribs. They seemed intent on moving a pile of small boxes from the back office to the boots of the two cars outside. Booth nursed his bruises and speculated on what was in the boxes. They did not appear big enough or heavy enough to be guns. His guess was that it was money, part of the haul that had gone missing a month previously.

Johnson and Beady-eyes carried a couple of boxes out to the cars, while Dopey stood over Booth with the gun. Then Beady-eyes came running back in and shouted at Dopey. Dopey glanced in Booth's direction, then ran towards the door. Through the open doorway Booth could hear sirens. The two men disappeared outside the door into the darkness.

Booth looked towards the outside door and then the office door, trying to gauge the distance. He struggled to his feet and began to run towards the office. He had nearly made it when he heard a loud curse behind him. Desperately he charged through the doorway and threw himself over the desk and through the window on the other side of it, the same window he had looked through earlier. As he hit the windowframe with his shoulder he heard a gun fire behind him and felt an agonising pain in his side.

He landed on the bushes outside the window and rolled gratefully into their cover, gasping for breath. The last thing he heard was the sound of a siren in the distance, and for one disorientating moment he thought it was an ambulance coming for him, until he realised that it could have nothing to do with him. No-one knew he was there. No-one but the bad guys.

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_All feedback gratefully received :-) _

_Next part coming very soon. _


	2. Chapter 1 Where's Booth

_Apologies for the delay in updating - the site wouldn't play with me :-(_

_They still don't belong to me, and I'm still not making anything out of this except the pleasure of playing with such wonderful characters._

_ Thanks for the reviews!_

_And most of all, I must say a big thankyou to MintExpresso for the wonderful job she's doing on betareading this story for me. Check out her stories - they're great! _

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**Monday 11.43am**

Every surface of the lab was covered in bones. Hodgins was intently studying a container full of beetles. Zack was carefully cleaning all the flesh off a skeleton. Angela was working on a reconstruction of a face from a skull. Dr Brennan was intently studying lab reports at her desk. It was business as usual in the Jeffersonian laboratory.

Brennan glanced up impatiently as a suited man walked up and stood beside her, waiting for her to notice him. "Go away, Booth." She was far too busy to welcome the FBI agent, who no doubt wanted to drag her away from her current task to investigate another suspicious body. She lowered the papers, however, as she registered that the man in front of her was not Booth. "I'm sorry, can I help you?" Her voice betrayed her impatience.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr Brennan," the man said smoothly. "I'm looking for Agent Booth. I believe you often work with him?" He looked like a typical FBI agent; dark suit, cleanshaven, polished shoes, sunglasses sticking out of his jacket pocket.

"Yes, but I haven't seen him for a few days." Brennan frowned. "Is there a problem?"

The man indicated the seat on the other side of the desk. "May I?" At her nod, he slid into the seat and faced her, his expression grave. "I'm Agent Harris," he said, flashing his identification at her. "I need to know when you last saw Booth. He's been working on a case related to a missing FBI agent, by the name of Charles Cotton, but now he appears to have gone missing himself."

Brennan gave the papers on her desk a last, regretful glance, before turning her full attention to Agent Harris. "Is he okay?" she asked, then shook her head. "Okay, sorry, stupid question. Let me think. Thursday. Thursday evening. He was here, asking about a skeleton we're trying to identify for him. He was nagging for the results, but I sent him home, told him to come back the next day, and he never did."

"Was that unusual?"

"I was irritated. He kept pressing and pressing, then when we finally got the result he wanted, he never came by. I tried ringing him but got no reply. Then we got a shipment of skeletons from New York and I haven't had time to think since."

She was worried now. Come to think of it, it was strange that Booth had never come back for those results, and she felt cross that she hadn't followed it up more strongly before this moment.

"Did he say where he was going?" Harris asked.

"Not to me." Brennan winced inwardly as she recalled the last time she had talked to Booth. She had not exactly been polite to him. Not exactly nasty either, but she could hardly blame him for staying away for a day or so. "Let me ask the others."

She headed out to the others and told them why Agent Harris was there. None of them could add any information of any use, except that Hodgins thought he had heard Booth mention heading east out of town, but all of them expressed concern at Booth's absence.

"I'm sorry we can't be of any further assistance," Brennan apologised.

"You already have, Dr Brennan," Harris reassured her. "You saw Agent Booth on Thursday evening. The last sighting we had of him was Wednesday morning. You've narrowed things down slightly."

"Oh. Well, when you find him, tell him to give me a call." Brennan tried to sound cheerful. After all, Booth knew his job. She was sure he would be fine, just heavily involved in something.

All the same, as she returned to the papers on her desk she could not shake off a feeling of unease. The more she thought about it, the more unusual it seemed to her that Booth had not contacted her to ask about the case, especially considering how much time he had been spending at the lab over the past week or so.

**Tuesday 2.07am**

_Temperance stood in the middle of the room. "Mom? Dad?" She rushed up the stairs and into her parents' room. "Mom?" _

_Her parents' room was empty. Completely empty. Even the bed had been stripped down to the bare mattress, its garish design of pink flowers standing out hideously against the delicate peach wallpaper. The wardrobe doors stood open, revealing nothing but a single wire coathanger. The window was wide open, and the blinds were gone. Temperance threw herself down on the mattress, sobbing. Before she knew it the mattress had started swaying under her, and she tried to jump off, but found herself surrounded by water, in which millions of skulls bobbed. Horrified, she tried to cling to the bedframe, but it lurched suddenly as if pushed by a giant hand, and she started to slip off. As she sank down into the sea of skulls one floated by with big brown eyes in the sockets, eyes that looked at her reproachfully. "You told me to go away, Bones, so I went," the jaw mocked her. She screamed... _

Brennan sat upright in her bed, trembling. She'd often dreamed about her parents since their disappearance, but she didn't like the new twist at the end of the familiar dream. She thought again about Booth. Where the hell could he be? She could not imagine him just dropping his responsibilities and leaving, but what other option could there be other than that something had happened to him?

She had been through this thought process before. Many times. Too many times. She thought back to when her parents had disappeared, of the hours she had lain awake envisaging various scenarios that could explain their disappearance, trying to find one that left her and them happily reunited. She had never managed to find one that satisfied her, and now she felt she never would. All she could do was the best she could to ensure that any body that went through her hands was identified and returned to loved ones where possible.

And now it had happened again. Once again someone close to her had disappeared, and she was left looking for explanations, and hoping against hope that this time it would have a happy ending. She felt a surge of anger towards Booth. How dare he disappear on her like this? He should be more responsible! Didn't he realise how much it hurt, when someone you loved disappeared without warning? She bit back the feeling of bitterness inside her. Whatever had happened to Booth, eating herself up like this would not help.

She lay down in the bed and pulled the covers up round her shoulders, trying fruitlessly to return to sleep, but the sea of skulls haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Eventually she got up and headed for the kitchen, to warm herself some milk. She sat curled up in an armchair with her drink and a novel, and found herself still sitting there several hours later, the book slipped onto the floor and the mug of milk, half-drunk, sitting on the coffee table beside her.

**Tuesday 4.19pm**

Things were winding down for the day. The set of skeletons they had been working on from New York were mostly catalogued and awaiting identification, and everyone was just in the process of clearing their desks and anticipating the chance of an early finish for the first time in over a week. Brennan was just finishing up some paperwork and wondering yet again whether there was any point at all in ringing to ask about Booth, when she spotted Agent Harris making his way through the equipment towards her.

"Agent Harris," she greeted him eagerly. "Is there any news about Booth yet?"

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "We don't know, Dr Brennan. I'm afraid I'm here to request your assistance. We have a body we need you to identify."

Brennan nodded, but waited, sensing that Harris had more to tell her.

"The body..." he said haltingly. "I'm afraid there's a good chance it may be Agent Booth."

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_Again, I'd love to hear what you think of it - and apologies: I'm currently reading Cross Bones by Kathy Reichs and I'm learning from a great writer just how to end each chapter on a cliffhanger ;-)_  



	3. Chapter 2 Who's Dead?

_They don't belong to me, although I wish they did. I just like playing with them. I hope you enjoy the end result. _

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**Tuesday 4.20pm**

Brennan felt the blood rush from her head. She placed her pen very carefully down on the desk, making sure she lined it up with the pile of papers, before looking back up to Agent Harris.

"Where?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound calm and even.

"I'll take you. It's an abandoned warehouse in the east of town."

"And what state is..."

The body was found following a fire in the building. It was treated as a fairly routine fire to start with, but once we realised Booth had been showing an interest in the building just before he disappeared last week, we put our full team on it, and they found a body buried under the rubble in a far corner of the warehouse floor."

Brennan stood up and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. She headed for the main laboratory floor. "Zack, get your camera. We have a job to do."

Zack looked up and groaned. "Dr Brennan, I thought we got to finish early tonight?"

Brennan ignored his protests and reached past him to the bag they always kept ready for calls like this.

"What have we got this time?" Zack asked, surrendering to the inevitable.

"A body, burned in a fire." Brennan forestalled Harris's attempt to answer the young scientist's question. Harris looked as if he was about to say more, but Brennan gave him a warning look. "We work on what we find in the evidence, it saves false assumptions."

Harris nodded his understanding, and followed the scientists to the parking lot.

**Tuesday 5.05pm**

"Business as usual," Brennan muttered to herself firmly as she dressed in her overalls and pulled on latex gloves. She saw Zack looking at her in puzzlement, but ignored him and put on the proffered hard hat before heading into the building behind Agent Harris. Zack hurried along behind her, camera in hand. They walked over to the crowd that had gathered in one corner of the room. Agent Harris flashed his ID card, and the men moved aside to let them through.

The body was lying right in the corner. The smell of smoke was still very strong. Brennan took a deep breath and forced herself to bend down and examine the body closely. It lay almost face down on the concrete floor, drawn into a tight ball by the effects of the fire, its hands apparently cradled together in front. As Zack moved around taking photo after photo of the scene Brennan looked round. The building was partly destroyed; the floor above had collapsed over most of the area, and had been pulled to one side by the investigation team. In some places holes in the roof way above them gaped open to the sky.

Zack spared a glance at the wall behind them. "It is safe, I suppose?" he said nervously.

One of the men nearby nodded. "Our teams made it safe before we could enter to search. That's what led to the delay between extinguishing the fire and finding the body."

Harris bent down towards Brennan. "How soon can you tell?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "We have tests to run. We need to work on identity and cause of death. Anything else we can find. It will take time."

"But it will be a priority case."

"Of course." She straightened up and stretched her legs. "First impressions, Zack?"

Zack chewed his lower lip for a moment. "Well, he's burned, obviously, but my money would be on him already being dead before the fire, or at least unconscious."

"Why?" Agent Harris sounded curious.

"Lying on his front like that, his hands are beneath him. Not an easy position in which to breathe, especially when the room is filled with smoke. I'd say he was dead before he lay down."

Brennan nodded her agreement. "Okay, once you've finished with the photos we'd better turn him over and take more photos that way, before shipping him to the lab."

She walked away, back outside the building and across the car park to the bushes that lined the far side, before doubling over and vomiting into the undergrowth.

**Tuesday****7.00pm  
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The body had been recovered, and lay on an examination table in the forensic laboratory at the Jeffersonian Institute. Angela and Hodgins had been recalled, and were scowling at their boss.

"What I don't understand is why we have to work late on this tonight," Hodgins was protesting. "He'll still be just as dead in the morning. And we'll be rested and better able to work."

"You might be; I wouldn't," Brennan retorted. Hodgins frowned at this uncharactistic outburst from the usually calm anthropologist.

"Sweetie, what is it?" Angela asked with concern. Brennan tried to deny there was anything wrong. Then she decided it was unfair. They were all his friends as well. If they knew, they would back her up all the way with this case, there was no doubt.

"This body – it may be Booth," she confessed quietly.

"What?" Angela looked aghast. Hodgins looked down at the body with a horrified fascination on his face. Zack looked faintly sick.

Brennan nodded. "Booth went missing last week. Remember Agent Harris asking if we'd seen him? Well, apparently he was interested in this building where the body was found. And he disappeared at about the same time the fire started."

Hodgins set his jaw grimly. "What are we waiting for? Let's get to work."

**Tuesday ****8.54pm  
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"Are you all right, sweetie?"

Brennan looked over her shoulder to see Angela studying her closely. She tried a smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's difficult to accept that this may be Booth. It feels unreal, you know? I keep finding myself thinking how Booth and I will tackle the case, then I remember..." She shook her head. "I can't believe it's him. It can't be."

Angela nodded. "I know what you mean," she said, sinking down into a chair next to her friend. "I've got the Xrays and I'm working on a facial reconstruction. It's too early to tell, but still it feels a little wierd."

Brennan looked back down at her notes. "What have we got so far?" she murmured. "Definitely male. Definitely around 35-40 years old." She reeled off other facts, all of which fit Booth – as well as Harris and many of the other agents Brennan had had reason to work with over the past few years.

"Nothing to confirm either way," Angela agreed sadly. "Do you think it is him?"

Brennan shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "There's just no way of telling yet. We haven't heard back on the dental records. There's no way to get fingerprints. We will work this out, but it's too soon. We need to keep working." Resolutely she adjusted the focus of the microscope on her desk and resumed peering into it, refusing to be distracted from her work by thoughts of what might or might not be. There would be enough time to react when they knew the truth about the body they were working on.

Angela turned away and went back to her office. She looked down at the papers in front of her for a moment, thinking about Agent Booth. He was a cutie, no doubt about that. She remembered his charm smile, the one she and Brennan joked about; the smile he put on when he was trying to get extra assistance from her. Impossible to resist. She was tempted, of course, but she felt that his interest was directed towards Brennan only. Now perhaps they'd never get a chance to see how the relationship worked out, to see whether Booth would be able to get past Brennan's shell; whether Brennan would ever look up from the dead bodies she worked with and realise that there was a live one interested in her.

She picked up the tablet that controlled the Angelator and tapped on a few keys. A skull appeared in the image area in front of her and rotated slowly. As she continued adding markers here and there a face slowly started to grow on the bare bones.

Zack pulled more bones out of the cleaner, placed each one carefully on a tray and then carried it over to the examination table. He laid each one out, slightly touching the other bones he'd placed there. Already the skeleton was partially assembled. He recalled what he knew of the FBI agent. He had never really talked to him, not to exchange more than a few words at a time, and had always felt in awe of him. It was a very sobering thought that these might be his bones he was handling. In the end, it was what everyone was reduced to. No matter what they were like in life, in death they became a pile of bones and flesh, with little to distinguish the heroes from the villains.

He frowned slightly, adjusted the right ulna and radius on the table, scribbled something on a pad of paper on the desk nearby, chewed his lip for a moment, picked up both ulnae to compare them, then scribbled again.

Hodgins looked with satisfaction at his glass vials of bugs. Whatever else let you down, you could always rely on the bugs. He thought regretfully of Agent Booth. The two of them had occasionally discussed various conspiracy theories, and while he always felt that Booth was failing to give his theories the gravity they deserved, he at least felt the FBI agent afforded the scientist himself reasonable respect.

He examined the evidence in front of him, typed something into the computer, adjusted the microscope and peered again. Then he took a closer look at the results that were coming out of the computer. He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers against the computer keys without actually typing anything. Then he nodded to himself, coming to a decision, and set out the equipment for another test.

**Tuesday 10.42pm**

Angela stared once again at the image in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind now. She printed out a picture showing her conclusions, and took it through to see Brennan.

Zack picked up his notes and glanced one last time at the body. He was absolutely sure. He headed towards Dr Brennan's office.

Hodgins checked and double checked his figures. The conclusion was undeniable. He ripped the printout from the machine and took it to Dr Brennan.

Brennan looked up to see her team all converging on her office, serious expressions on their faces, all vying to speak first, to bring her the news she already knew. She pushed her chair back from her desk and stood up. She held up the file that had been delivered ten minutes previously, and that she had been working on feverishly ever since.

"I know," she told her team. "I know what you have to say."

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_Please review and let me know what you think! _


	4. Chapter 3 Still missing

_They still don't belong to me, sadly. And I'm still not making any money. Just a lot of fun._

_Thanks to Fox and to Kathy Reichs for creating the characters. And to MintExpresso for her betareading._

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**Tuesday 10.45pm**

"It's not him," Zack burst out. The others nodded their agreement.

"I agree. Hodgins, what did you find?"

Hodgins held up his piece of paper. "The evidence shows that the body died over five days ago. Thursday morning, in fact. Between 9 and 10am. We saw Booth Thursday evening. Ergo, it cannot possibly be him."

Zack could hold back no longer. "The bones show a break to right radius and ulna. Remodelling indicates the break was about three months ago. We've known Booth for longer than that, and we'd have noticed if he'd turned up with his arm in a cast. It can't be him."

Angela held up the printout of the facial reconstruction. There was no doubt; the face was notably different from Booth's, with the jaw narrower and the nose shape completely different.

"So who is it?" wondered Zack.

Brennan tapped the papers in front of her. "Booth was investigating the disappearance of another FBI agent, by the name of Charles Cotton. I have the dental records here. They match." She held up a photo. The resemblance to Angela's sketch was uncanny.

As the others sank down in chairs, relief written on their faces, Brennan grimly picked up her phone and dialled Agent Harris's number. She reported briefly on their findings, then replaced the phone.

"I knew it wouldn't be Booth," Zack said confidently. "He's too good to get killed." He looked round at the others. "What?"

Hodgins shook his head. "I'm sure he'll turn up," he said, reassuringly. He looked at Brennan. "Do you still need us here?"

Brennan shook her head. "Okay, team, let's head for home," she said. "We can continue work in the morning. We've identified the body, and that's plenty for one evening. The rest can wait."

Zack and Hodgins jumped up and shot out of the room, while Angela remained behind looking quizzically at her friend.

"You don't look as pleased as I'd expected," she said quietly.

Brennan looked straight at her friend for a moment. "So this wasn't him," she said. "It doesn't mean the next one won't be. And it doesn't mean that he's any safer than he was. Just that we don't know what happened to him. And if he really has gone missing then there's a chance we never will know."

Angela sat silently, contemplating her friend's words. "Booth's good," she said reassuringly. "If anyone can take care of themselves, he can. Anyway, maybe he's not missing, maybe he's ... just too busy to check in." She knew as soon as she spoke the words how weak that sounded.

Brennan shook her head. "I'm sure Agent Cotton could take care of himself as well - until now. Anyway, I checked," she confessed. "He was supposed to have Parker for the weekend, and he never showed up, never even called."

"Oh."

"Exactly. He'd never let Parker down, not unless he was in real trouble. "

Angela stood up, wiggling and stretching her fingers. "We can't help him by sitting around," she declared, trying to sound positive. "Let's get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow we'll turn up something that will help find him."

Brennan nodded and stood up herself. "Yes, let's go home," she agreed.

**Tuesday 11.29pm**

When Brennan arrived home she sat for a few moments in her car, thinking. Much as she had tried to hide it in front of her colleagues, she was seriously worried about Booth. Where the hell could he be? She could think of no explanation for his disappearance that did not have him lying dead somewhere, or at least badly wounded. Reluctantly she accepted the thought that it was possible they would never know.

Life was not fair. Was she destined always to have the ones she loved disappear on her without a trace? She remembered the dark days after her parents disappeared, the time it had taken for her not to expect them to walk back into the house at any moment. At least Agent Cotton's family would not suffer that agony. Agent Harris was heading over to tell them the truth even now.

Booth would have taken her with him on such a task.

The thought hit her almost like a physical pain. She missed him. Not just the man himself, which was bad enough, but also the camaraderie they'd developed between themselves, the working relationship that saw his growing respect for the science she worked with, while she in her turn had come to understand better the twists and turns of law enforcement and the restrictions he worked under.

She gathered her things and got out of the car, easing the door shut quietly out of respect for her neighbours. Juggling papers and laptop into her case, she walked slowly towards her front door, almost reluctant to return to the light. Somehow, the darkness around her seemed appropriate, as if her physical surroundings should reflect the murk her mind was currently struggling through.

As she got to her front door she lowered her case to the floor and fumbled in her pocket for the key. She had just found the right key and had inserted it into the lock when a shadowy figure emerged from the bushes by the door. It pushed her into the house and followed close behind.

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_Reviews always welcome :-) _


	5. Chapter 4 Midnight Visitor

_The characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them for a while, and making no money from any of this. Thanks to Fox and Kathy Reichs for bringing us Bones and Booth, long may they continue to do so._

_Thanks again to my beta, MintExpresso - why not check out her stories as well?_

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**Tuesday 11.32pm**

Brennan instinctively pushed the intruder away, before she had time to recognise the voice that spoke to her, or to register that the first word that he said was "Bones". By now they were both inside the door, and Brennan groped for the light switch. As the door swung shut behind them and the hallway flooded with light, she was shocked to see who her attacker was, kneeling in the middle of the floor doubled over in pain.

It was Booth. Unshaven, looking a mess, wearing a hideous Hawaiian shirt with ripped jeans, appearing as though he had been wearing the same clothes for a week – which, on consideration, was very possibly true – but undoubtedly Booth.

He grinned ruefully up at her. "I should have known better than to startle you like that," he admitted weakly. "It's just - no-one must know I'm here."

Brennan wanted to hug him tight, to tell him how much she had missed him, how scared she had been that he was dead.

Instead she yelled at him. "Where the hell have you been? Do you know how much trouble you've caused? I thought you were dead! We thought we were working on your body!"

"Hey, steady on," Booth protested. "I'm sorry, okay? It was too dangerous. I had to lie low for a while."

Brennan brought her case inside, checked the door was shut behind them, then knelt down by Booth, registering that he was in pain far above what she had delivered to him. "Nice shirt," she commented dryly.

Booth grimaced. "I took it off a washing line. The colours called to me."

"Let me see." She had already taken in the strips of cloth wrapped round his wrists, but now she realised that what she had taken to be a particularly gaudy part of the design all down his left side was actually dried blood. She gently pulled up the edge of the shirt, to reveal a makeshift bandage soaked in blood. He pushed her hands away and shakily stood up, leaning on the wall for support.

"What happened to you? Where have you been?" This time her voice carried real concern with it, rather than the relief turned to anger of her earlier outburst. He shook his head, more from inability to speak than any reluctance to answer her questions.

She helped him to the couch, where he sank down with obvious relief. He leaned his head back, his face pale. She fetched the first aid kit from the kitchen, then stood in the doorway for a moment watching him. With him sitting there on her couch, the last couple of days felt like a dream. Of course he was okay. How could she ever have doubted that? But he was injured, and obviously in some sort of trouble, or he wouldn't be here.

Brennan decided then and there that explanations could wait. Let them deal with real life tomorrow. Tonight she would worry only about Booth.

Booth was nearly asleep on the couch. He hardly moved as Bones perched next to him, pulled his shirt up again and carefully removed the bandage.

"This looks pretty nasty," she commented.

Booth shook his head weakly. "Nah, it's only a scratch."

"It looks more than that!" Bones examined the wound carefully.

Booth straightened himself on the couch. "I've had a lot worse, believe me. This is nothing." He tried to hide the pain he was in. Bones' elbow hadn't quite caught the wound, but it had come close, and with the relief of finally finding himself somewhere safe, however temporary, he was finding it hard to keep himself together properly. He had known he was asking for trouble when he jumped Bones at the door, but he could not risk having her call out in surprise and alerting the neighbours to his presence. Now his side was feeling the after-effects of the moment.

"Bullet wound?"

He nodded, but did not elaborate.

"Well, it looks like you've been lucky. The bullet grazed along your ribs, here, but didn't damage the bone, as far as I can tell." She looked up at him. "Incredibly lucky. It's healing fairly well, but you'll have a scar."

She unwound the bandages from his wrists, to reveal severe chafing marks and heavy bruising. "These look painful, but they're healing up."

She gently peeled the shirt off his shoulder, to reveal several deep cuts that were half healed.

Booth groaned and pulled away. "Please..."

"These need cleaning up. Let me help you. Can you make it to the bath?"

Booth allowed Bones to run a bath for him, but refused to let her in the bathroom while he bathed. He gingerly washed his wounds and cleaned himself up as best he could. Having no razor, he rubbed his hand ruefully over his chin and decided he would have to live with the stubble for the time being.

He raised his eyebrows when Bones sneaked her hand round the door with a pile of men's clothes, but when he appeared in front of her dressed in the clean jeans she said nothing and he decided not to press the point. She gently dressed his wounds and helped him slip the shirt on over his injured shoulder. He fumbled with the buttons, and she took over and finished the job for him.

"You hungry?"

Booth shook his head. "I guess I must be, but right now I'm too tired to eat. I just need to sleep. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Bones helped him to the couch, and he was vaguely aware of her helping him swing his legs up and lie down. As she carefully placed a blanket over him he felt his eyes drift shut, and presently he fell asleep.

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_See, I've put you all out of your misery ;-)_

_ I should be updating this story more or less daily, site permitting. Please review! _


	6. Chapter 5 Explanations

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**Wednesday 7am**

**  
**When the alarm sounded Brennan lay in bed for a few minutes trying to work out why she felt so strange. She remembered the evening before, all the emotional turmoil of working on a body she had been told might belong to a colleague and dear friend. She remembered...

She sat bolt upright in bed. Booth!

She jumped up, headed for the door, dashed back to pick up her robe, then hurried out of the bedroom. Booth was exactly where she had left him, still looking pale and weary even in his sleep. She stood for a few moments just watching him, satisfying herself that he was still breathing, before she headed back to her room and got herself ready for the day.

She made two cups of coffee, and sat them both down on the coffee table, then bent and very gently touched Booth on the arm, being careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

He groaned and tried to turn away.

She persisted, calling his name softly, and eventually was rewarded by his eyes opening and staring blankly up at her for a moment, before widening in recognition. "Bones!"

He tried to sit up, then gave up and lay still for a moment just looking at her.

"I'm sorry to wake you," she said. "But I really need to talk to you. I need to know what's going on, before I go to work."

"Work?" He sounded half asleep.

"Or I could stay home with you," she added, suddenly reluctant to let him out of her sight.

"No." He shook his head. "You must pretend you haven't seen me. No-one must know I'm here. They mustn't know I'm still alive. Not until I've figured out what to do."

He made another attempt to sit up, and this time, with assistance, he made it to a sitting position. He gratefully accepted the mug of coffee she held out to him.

Brennan sipped at her own coffee, looking over the top of the mug at her friend. "Are you going to let me know what's going on?"

Booth nodded slowly. "Someone has been raiding a lot of banks in the area," he started.

He hesitated, trying to think of the best way to explain things. "I was investigating both the crimes themselves and the disappearance of the previous agent who was investigating. I thought I'd found their headquarters, near where we found that body you were working on last week."

Bones nodded. "You were waiting for an identification, then you never came back."

"The notes in the file said that a warehouse in the east of town was a possible site for a meeting. I went out there, but it was a trap. They captured me," - he indicated the marks on his wrists – "but I managed to get away by jumping through a window. I think they were startled by sirens nearby. I ran and hid, and they couldn't find me. In the end they torched the building and left. They knew they hit me with a bullet, and they hoped I was lying unconscious and bleeding nearby, I think. I don't want to do anything to make them think any different. Not until I figure out who I can trust."

Bones looked at him quizzically. "And that's a problem how?"

"Because someone has been feeding these guys information. They know exactly how the investigation's going, how close – or far away – we are. They set a trap for me, Bones, and I walked right into it."

Bones sat looking thoughtful. "That agent you were looking for? Was it Agent Cotton?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"His body was found, possibly in the same warehouse you're talking about. It was recovered after a fire over the weekend. We were told it might be you."

Booth was quiet for a moment, contemplating the loss of a colleague. He thought of Bones and the team, as well; he could not imagine what it had been like for them, working on a body they thought was his. He shook his head. "I thought he must be dead. I'd hoped – but this is a nasty case. Cotton's partner was killed a few months ago working on this. Cotton had his suspicions, I think, that there was an inside informer, but he didn't know who. That's what got him killed." He looked straight at Bones. "I don't intend to make the same mistake."

"So I need to do what?" Bones asked him. "Go to work as normal? Pretend I still think you're missing?"

He nodded. "I know it will be hard, Bones. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do. I still need to rest, and now I really am hungry. Let me sleep and eat, and tonight maybe we'll figure out where I go from here."

Bones stared into her coffee mug. "Working on a body I'd been told was yours, that was hard. Compared to that, keeping your presence a secret will be a walk in the park."

**Wednesday 9am**

It was hard.

From the moment when she'd walked into the med-lab and greeted the rest of the team, she'd been the object of suspicion.

"What's up?" Angela had demanded.

"Up? Nothing's up, I'm fine," Brennan assured her.

"That's what I mean. We spent all yesterday evening thinking Booth was dead. Now you're fine?"

"Oh." Brennan thought fast. "I feel much better for a good night's sleep, I guess. You're right, Booth must be okay, just too busy to check in. After all, he's used to living dangerously." And she had thrown herself headlong into the pile of work on her desk, keeping her head down and hard at work. She avoided the others for as much as possible and tried to look downcast whenever they looked at her. She felt guilty that she knew Booth was safe and they didn't, but fear for Booth's safety made her respect his request and keep quiet - for now.

Eventually, the rest of the team must have decided that she was merely making a good job of hiding the strain she felt, because they busied themselves bringing her coffee all morning. They all worked steadily on Agent Cotton, finding out any scrap of evidence they could about his death and the time shortly before. Agent Harris dropped in mid-morning to enquire about the investigation, but Brennan found it hard to face him, with Booth's words echoing in her ears. Angela sensed her reticence, while not understanding the reason for it, and jumped into the breach, prompting Zack and Hodgins into explaining their findings while Brennan sat and seemingly doodled on a sheet of paper.

**Wednesday 12.30pm**

At lunchtime Brennan made an excuse and slipped away from the lab for a while. She told the others that she'd left some files at home, and needed to fetch them.

As she turned the key in the lock of her door she held her breath, terrified for a moment that he would be gone, but he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking at her. "I saw your car outside," he said by way of explanation. "I wasn't expecting you back."

She held out the files she was carrying. "I thought you might like to look at these."

"What is it?" He held his hand out and she handed over the paperwork.

"It's a copy of the files on both Agent Cotton and the guy you wanted the id on from last week."

He sank down onto the couch and started flicking through the files, his face grim. "Thanks. They might help me figure out what's going on." He glanced back up at her. "Hope you don't mind, I grabbed some food from your freezer."

"No problem. I'd better be getting back. Please, help yourself to anything you need. I should have said earlier."

At the door she looked back. His head was down, and he was absorbed with the files he held on his lap.

**Wednesday 3.30pm**

Brennan's phone rang on her desk just as she was in the middle of another conference with the others. "Hold on," she said to them, and picked up the phone. "Dr Brennan."

"Bones. It's me." Booth's voice was unmistakable, and Brennan felt her face flood with heat. She looked up at the others.

"Please, I have to take this," she said. "It's private – it won't take long."

Puzzled, they stood up and left, looking over their shoulders at her. She shrugged and half turned her back on them.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I need to talk to Angela. I need her help. She may hold the key to this, or at least be able to help me find it."

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_Hope you're still enjoying it! Please let me know what you think.  
_  



	7. Chapter 6 Identifications

_Apologies for not updating yesterday - but hey, it was the night for a new Bones episode here, so I was otherwise occupied ;-)_

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**Wednesday 3.30pm ** Brennan thought for a moment. "Do you want me to bring Angela home with me, or do you want to come into the lab?" she asked. 

"It would be easier in the lab, if I can get there safely," Booth answered. "Maybe Zack and Hodgins might be able to chip in as well. Besides, I'm going crazy here. I really need to get back on this case properly."

"Okay, leave it to me."

Brennan hung up, thought for a moment, then made a few phone calls.

Wednesday 6.15pm 

"I still don't get why we have to stay late," Hodgins complained.

Brennan glared at him. "Please, Hodgins, just for once can you do as I ask without complaining?" she snapped. Then seeing his hurt look she shook her head. "Sorry," she said. "This business with Booth being missing - it's difficult. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

He frowned back, looking puzzled but made no further argument. Brennan turned to Zack. "You hungry?"

"Uh, not particularly," he answered, confused.

"That's a shame. I've ordered takeout for us all."

Angela pulled her to one side. "Just what are you up to, sweetie?" she demanded.

Brennan shook her head. "Please, Angela, pretend nothing's wrong. You'll find out soon enough."

The team settled down to work, giving Brennan sidelong glances every now and then as if trying to figure out what she was up to. Gradually, everyone else disappeared to their homes and families, leaving just the forensic anthropology team at work.

**Wednesday 7.15pm**

Just as Brennan was beginning to think that she would have to give the others some sort of explanation her phone rang and she hurried to her office to answer it. She looked round the room carefully as she spoke to her caller, then she hung up.

Shortly thereafter a visitor arrived in the lab. "Pizza!" he announced, holding aloft an assortment of pizza boxes. "Hope you're hungry!"

Angela looked up at the delivery guy, then did a double-take. "Booth?"

Zack looked up, startled. "Booth? Where?" He spotted Booth standing with the pizzas and grinned in delight. Even Hodgins, not noted for being enthusiastic about anything other than his conspiracy theories and his bugs, raised a smile at the sight of the FBI agent. Angela ran over and gave him a hug, then pulled back as she noticed him wince.

"You're injured," she said, concerned.

Booth shrugged. "It's nothing much," he said.

Brennan smiled her welcome. "You managed it okay then," she said.

Booth nodded. "The pizza guy was quite happy to skip the delivery and let me do it."

He followed Brennan into her office and put the pizza boxes down on the coffee table. Then he turned to the others, who had followed him. "Sorry, guys," he said. "We felt it was best not to tell you anything until the lab was empty for the evening."

Angela turned to Brennan. "You knew he was still alive?"

"Not until last night. But yes, today I did know all day. I'm sorry," she apologised. "I wanted to tell you, but we had to keep it quiet. Booth's life is in danger."

The team immediately looked serious. "Tell us what we can do to help," Hodgins said at once. Zack said nothing, but nodded his head eagerly.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you to help," Booth said. "Actually, it's Angela who can help me most right now, but I'm sure you'll all get a chance to help out."

"Me?" Angela looked startled. Booth pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. He handed it to her.

Angela looked down at the paper. "That's the picture I did of the body you brought in last week."

"Yeah, that's right," Booth agreed. "You did good work on that, all of you. But now I need you to do more for me."

"Tell me, honey, I'm all ears."

Angela and Booth headed for the artist's office, leaving the rest with Brennan.

"Okay, what can I do for you?" Angela settled herself comfortably on a stool and looked over the top of her sketchpad at Booth.

Booth indicated the sketch laid out on the desk next to them. "I saw him the other night, I think," he said.

"Sweetie, that's not possible. Your guy has been dead for at least three months."

"I know. But maybe they were brothers? They were very similar in appearance. I couldn't think where I'd seen him before, but I think it must have been your sketch. My guy had longer hair, and his eyes were slightly closer together, I think."

Angela's brow furrowed in concentration as she bent over the sketchpad, drawing to Booth's specifications. Eventually she held the drawing up for him to see.

He nodded. "Yes, I think that's it."

"But you can't have seen my picture before," Angela said slowly. "I didn't complete it until after you'd left us that evening."

"Maybe an earlier version of the sketch? I've definitely seen it somewhere before."

She shook her head. "I don't tend to show stuff I'm still working on. No-one saw this until it was finished, and that was about an hour after you left."

Booth chewed his bottom lip in frustration. "Let's get some pizza," he said at last. The two of them headed back to the office, to find the others merrily eating their way through the pile of food.

"We saved one for you," Zack said shyly, holding a box out to Booth. He took the box and nodded his thanks to the young scientist, who looked pleased.

"Dr Brennan's been filling us in a little," Hodgins said. "Sounds like you've got a nice conspiracy going on."

"I thought you'd like it," Booth grinned, settling back on the couch and tucking into pizza. For a moment he just savoured the chance to eat and relax among friends. He listened to the others chatting; after the initial shock of seeing him alive and well they seemed to have taken his presence for granted and continued with life as normal. He listened with contentment to Zack talking about a visit to his family the week before.

Then suddenly Booth sat up. "Angela!" he said. "That face. Could you do another version?"

Angela nodded. "I'll get my pad," she said. She was back a moment later, and sat down waiting for instructions.

Booth hesitated a moment. "The eyes are right," he said at last. "The hair – longer. The chin's a little rounder. And – it's a female."

Angela drew the face he described and offered it to him. He sat forward to take a closer look, then shook his head. "No, that's not right." His face twisted in frustration.

"Who are you trying to get?" asked Hodgins, interested.

"That face – I've seen it somewhere before. It might be the guy himself, of course, when he was still alive, but I've just got the strangest feeling it was a woman – and someone I've seen often."

The others watched in fascination as Angela's pencil flew over the paper, first sketching and then filling in a face. Attempt after attempt was made, and then abandoned as Booth professed them to be not quite right.

Brennan had started typing up a full report of the findings of the day, but as she caught sight of one of Angela's discarded sketches she stood up and came round her desk. She stood for a moment watching over Angela's shoulder as yet another sketch was started and then rejected.

"No," she said slowly. "It's the hairline." She described changes to Angela.

Booth looked up at Brennan in astonishment. "You recognise her?" he asked.

"I've got a strange feeling I know this face, too," Brennan explained.

Angela finished the latest version and held it up for them both to inspect.

Booth opened his eyes wide and looked at Brennan, who had given a small gasp as she looked at the picture.

"I know who it is!" they said together.

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_Please let me know what you think! Thank you for all your comments so far._  



	8. Chapter 7 Research

_A little plot development here, I'm afraid - lots of talking..._

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Wednesday 8.35pm**

"Well come on, put us out of our misery," cried Hodgins impatiently. "Who is it?"

"I was concerned it might be Cullen, my boss," Booth admitted. "The leaks seemed to come from fairly high up in the organisation. But it didn't make sense. Why would Cullen suddenly be working with these guys? Now this-" he tapped Angela's sketch – "makes everything fall into place."

"It's Cullen's personal assistant, Maria," Brennan put in. "I've often seen her at the FBI office. She's always there in the background, making notes, reading case files, passing on messages..."

"...eavesdropping on conversations, no doubt," Booth continued for her.

"So now what do we do?" asked Zack eagerly.

"We go to Cullen," Brennan suggested.

"Not yet." Booth shook his head. "We don't have any proof. This is enough to tell us what we're dealing with, but I need hard evidence before I can take it any further."

"What sort of evidence?" asked Angela.

"Who she really is, for a start," Booth said. "And who the others are."

The team spread out, each taking a computer terminal and tackling the research task. Everyone was willing to work through the night to see this one out. Booth sat at a spare workstation near Brennan's office, absent-mindedly tucking into pizza as he worked. He logged into the FBI computer and started rereading the files on the bank raids the gang had carried out. He stopped every so often to look around him at the others, and marvel at how comfortable he felt with them all. Their minds seemed to work very differently from his, but still they cared about the same things as him, truth being the biggest of these. He looked over at Bones. It felt strange, now he came to think of it; why had he turned to her for help? But she was the only person connected with the case that he knew he could trust, and besides, she was a good friend. A very good friend. He wasn't sure where their relationship was going, but he could not mistake the relief she had shown when she had found out he was alive. Maybe one day they'd get around to doing something about their relationship. Right now, though, they were in the middle of an investigation. He turned his attention back to the computer screen.

Brennan was working in her office, going through the reports of the bodies, making sure all the reports were complete and all the evidence gained was recorded correctly. She glanced over from time to time to see Booth working hard. Once she noticed him sitting back in his chair for a moment and rubbing his wrists, and she remembered with a pang the painful bruising and chafing the ropes had left. Still, he seemed to have mostly forgotten his injuries, and to be working hard on trying to find something to solve the mystery of his attackers. She remembered again the agony of the evening before, when they had thought they might be working on Booth's body. If he had not escaped, it could have been him lying on the lab table under the magnifying glass. The thought felt very odd, like a dream. She felt moved at the thought that with all the resources he usually had at his disposal, he had turned to her for help.

After over an hour reading files, Booth pushed his chair back from his desk and turned to the others. "Okay," he said. "I don't know about you, but I'm completely stumped."

Zack nodded. "The identification on your dead body seems sound, but now we've looked deeper, there's nothing that goes back more than two years."

"The bank raids started in this area about eighteen months ago," Booth commented.

"And your body..." Brennan swallowed, then hurriedly rephrased what she was going to say, "this body you found was dead for about three months before you found it and called us in."

"And Agent Montsou disappeared nearly three months ago," Booth put in, sitting forward on his chair. "So, the first agent disappeared soon after this guy disappeared. And one of the guys involved in the bank raids and the deaths of Montsou and Cotton is related to my dead guy, because they look very alike. Brothers, probably."

"And your boss's PA looks like them both," Angela finished for them all. "So if we look for two brothers and a sister on a crime spree we might be able to work forwards from that instead of backwards from the present."

"Good thinking, Angela," praised Booth. He turned back to his computer screen, then groaned and rubbed his eyes. "It's no good, I'm going to have to take a break in a while."

**Wednesday 10.05pm**

It was Hodgins who made the breakthrough. He tapped into some sources who were interested in organised crime, and picked up rumours of siblings by the name of George, Paul and Anna Henderson. Notorious around the New York area, there were indications they might have moved to DC during the past few years.

They all gathered around the computer. "Which brother is dead?" Booth asked.

Angela peered closely at the text on screen. "It says here that George was the brains behind the three. Paul was a little crazy. He had a particular thing against the FBI. Apparently he held them responsible for the death of their father years ago during a raid that went wrong." She looked up. "Three guesses which one is dead and which is still alive and running the joint."

Booth looked serious. "You're absolutely certain on this?"

Angela twisted the screen so he could see better. "There's a photo." The similarity to Angela's sketches could clearly be seen in all three of the faces in the photo.

Booth nodded. "All right. That's enough. We need to go to Cullen."

He reached out for the phone on the desk, lifted the receiver and dialed. "Sir? It's Booth. No, I'm okay, Sir, just a little - I felt it was unsafe to make contact before now."

He explained what they had found out about the Henderson trio, then listened soberly. "Yes, Sir," he said at last. "I'll be here for a while. Let me know if I can help."

He replaced the receiver and turned to the others. "It gets worse," he told them. "Now Agent Harris is missing."

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_Please read and review! I'm nearly finished writing this one - don't think the cliffhangers are over yet ;-) _


	9. Chapter 8 Rescue

_Thanks for the reviews!_

_Thanks to my excellent beta, MintExpresso._

_I still don't own Bones, or make any money from any of this - it's purely for entertainment. Thanks to Kathy Reichs and Fox TV for bringing us Booth and Brennan._

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**Wednesday 10.10pm**

Booth sat back on the couch and gave out a long sigh. "This is like a nightmare," he said soberly. "I feel useless sitting here, but there's nothing I could do anywhere else."

By unspoken agreement they had all adjourned to Brennan's office, where the empty pizza boxes still lay stacked on the table. Angela made strong coffee for all of them and handed round the steaming mugs.

"You're tired, Booth," Brennan pointed out. "Hell, we're all tired. We could all do with a good night's sleep. Maybe we'll figure out something in the morning."

"Yeah." Booth nodded. "I just want to wait a while. Cullen is going to send a team out to bring Maria in, and I want to hear what happens."

"So, what happened to you?" Angela asked the question the squints had been desperate to know the answer to all evening.

Booth told them of finding a note in Cotton's file notes, referring to a meeting at the warehouse. How he'd gone to the warehouse to have a look around and been captured, and how he'd managed to escape through the window when the men were distracted by the sirens.

"It was dark," he explained. "I managed to get away into some bushes, but there was a lot of blood. I heard them talking, they reckoned they'd shot me and I wouldn't get far injured. Then I heard them set fire to the place. I guess they hoped I'd go up with the building, but I managed to get clear. I hid out for a couple of days, I didn't know who I could trust. I thought I'd better stay clear of everyone. But in the end I had to have help. Bones here was the only person I knew would help me, who couldn't possibly be the informer."

The phone rang, making them all jump. Booth looked across at Brennan, who answered it. "Yes, he's here." She held out the receiver to Booth.

"Yes, Sir." Booth listened. He exchanged a few words with Cullen, then hung up.

"They found Anna-Maria. She told them where Harris was headed. A warehouse near the one I got captured in. Bones, can I borrow your car?"

"No way!" she retorted. "I'm coming with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

" You're injured, remember. You shouldn't be driving, not with your shoulder in that condition."

Booth started to argue, then shrugged. "You've got a point," he admitted. "Okay, I guess it's your turn to drive – this time."

Brennan nodded and reached for her keys, wondering if Booth had given in a little too easily.

"Well, I think I'll head for home," Hodgins commented, standing up and stretching.

"Me too," said Angela. "So glad to know you're okay, Booth. Take care."

They all walked together to the parking lot, then Angela found her car, Zack and Hodgins climbed into Hodgin's small red mini, and Booth and Brennan got in Brennan's blue sedan. Booth gave directions, while Brennan drove. The roads were quiet at that time of night and the journey was uneventful. They pulled a few hundred yards away from the warehouse, in an area buzzing with cars and men.

**Wednesday 11.37pm**

"Stay in the car," Booth ordered, as he opened the door. He was not surprised when Bones ignored him and got out herself.

Booth walked up to the agent in charge of the operation, who recognised him. "Good to see you safe and sound, Agent Booth," he greeted him.

Booth nodded. "What's the situation?"

The man indicated the warehouse, which could be seen round the corner of the building. "We're about to go in. We think Harris is in there with two men."

"Get me a gun; I'm going too."

The man nodded and yelled over his shoulder for a gun and some body armour. Brennan caught Booth by the arm. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's my job, Bones," he snapped, then smiled at her and said more gently, "I'll be fine, don't worry." He took the proffered gun and held onto the body armour, looking at it. He tried to lift up his left arm to slip it through the armhole, then winced in pain. Brennan took the armour from him and held it open, helping him ease it over his bad shoulder. "Thanks."

Brennan looked from Booth to the warehouse, then back again. She looked like she was about to say something to him, but in the end she settled for "Be careful."

He tried for a reassuring grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I promise." He turned to the agent standing next to him, whose gun remained in its holster. "Agent Palmer, I want you to look after Dr Brennan for me."

Then he joined with the other men who were standing by the corner, and all of them moved forward towards the building.

Brennan paced backwards and forwards by the cars, watching as the men entered the warehouse and moved out of sight. Then she returned to her car and opened the door. She tried sitting in the driver's seat, but was soon back on her feet and pacing again. It felt like a lifetime had passed, and yet it could only have been a couple of minutes. The men were maintaining radio silence, and the few people left outside were watching silently, waiting for something to happen.

More time passed, and still nothing. Then a shot rang out, breaking the silence. A few seconds later there was another shot, then another following so fast that it could have been just an echo of the previous shot. A voice was heard over the radio. "We have an agent down. Repeat, we have an agent down. Request a medical team ASAP."

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_Sorry, this cliffhanger crept in._

_Hey, what am I saying? I'm not sorry at all! And you know Booth will be alright, don't you? Or do you? Just imagine how Brennan feels right now ;-)_

_Reviews very welcome :-) _


	10. Chapter 9 The Aftermath

_They still don't belong to me, and I'm still not making any money (especially while I'm writing this instead of working!). _

_Thanks for the reviews :-)_

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**Wednesday 11.50pm**

Brennan moved instinctively towards the building, but Agent Palmer held his arm out. "You need to stay here," he said firmly. "The situation is under control. They wouldn't have called for the medics if it weren't."

"But who's been hurt?" demanded Brennan. "Please, I need to know."

He just shrugged. "We'll find out soon," he answered, and turned his attention back to the building. Brennan saw a medical team moving towards the entrance to the warehouse, with a gurney between them. Two agents met them at the door, and they disappeared inside with one of them, while the other remained just outside.

Nothing else happened for a while.

Brennan resumed her pacing, hugging her arms around her body as if for warmth. As soon as someone appeared at the warehouse door her attention was back there, but he only said something to the man waiting at the doorway, and then disappeared inside again. Another medical team was summoned and disappeared inside.

Eventually, Brennan could bear the waiting no more. By her watch, no more than fifteen minutes had passed since the team had entered the building, no more than five since the call for the medical team, but her heart felt as though it had been a lifetime. Her chest ached, and she realised dully that she had been almost holding her breath, willing with every fibre of her body for Booth to be unharmed. Someone was injured, but there was no reason to suppose it was Booth. A dozen men were in the building. Harris, as far as they knew, was already in there, and in far more danger than the men who had entered in body armour and fully armed. But why would her heart not accept the reasoning of her head? Why did she feel this pressure, this unwillingness to breathe normally, to even dare to imagine Booth walking calmly out of the building, dropping his body armour and dropping it to the ground at his feet, grinning at her and saying...

"They're coming out."

"What?" Startled, Brennan turned to find Agent Palmer standing beside her.

"They're just coming out," he repeated. "I heard that one of the perps was killed outright, the other injured slightly."

"And the agent?"

"Seriously injured, but he'll be okay."

"Who was-" Brennan began to ask, but Palmer was summoned away before she could finish. Now she could see the medics appearing from the doorway. Two gurneys were brought out, and headed towards the two ambulances standing nearby. One was attended by the medics and one agent who was holding a gun; Brennan assumed he was the perp. She turned her attention to the other gurney. The man on there was wearing an oxygen mask, and covered with a blanket. Brennan couldn't tell if it was Booth or not. She tried moving closer, but still could not see.

"Looking for someone?"

She jumped, then swung round. Booth was standing there, still wearing his body armour but with his gun holstered, looking the same as ever, if somewhat tired. Brennan fought off the impulse to throw her arms around him; she could imagine what his colleagues would say about that. Instead she smiled. "About time," she said cheerfully, trying to hide how worried she'd been about him.

He nodded at her, then turned to Agent Palmer. They moved off a short way and Brennan could hear them talking. She heard Booth explain something about two perps being captured, and Harris injured but rescued. "The leader's still at large," she heard Booth say. "He told the others something about dealing with the top name on his list personally."

"So who's that?" Agent Palmer wondered.

Booth shook his head. "They didn't know. All FBI agents are being warned to be extra careful until he's captured. It's only a matter of time now; he's working on his own."

They discussed the matter some more, then eventually Booth clapped his hand on the other agent's shoulder and turned back to Brennan. "What say we head for home? They can cope with the rest here."

Brennan looked at him closely. His face was pale, and his voice sounded weaker than usual. She indicated the body armour. "You going to take that off?"

He put his hands up to the fastening, but pulled at it so feebly she took over and helped him remove the armour. Agent Palmer took it from them. He frowned at Booth. "You look like you could do with some rest," he commented.

Booth shook his head. "I'm okay," he insisted, but put up little protest when Brennan led him to the car. He climbed in and rested his head on the back of the seat.

Brennan climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine. She looked across at him. "Did you get much sleep today?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I got a couple of hours," he said defensively.

"Then it's time you got some more," she said, putting the car into gear.

**Wednesday 12.42pm**

Booth was nearly asleep in the car by the time they reached Brennan's home. He had opened his eyes once or twice on the journey, but had said nothing, even when he realised that they were heading for her house and not his. When they pulled up he opened his eyes again with a groan, and looked across at her enquiringly.

She shrugged. "You said all agents were to be extra careful," she reminded him. "It seemed a bad idea to take you back to your place. After all, we know you're on his hit list. You can get some sleep at my place, then you'll be ready to go and help find him in the morning."

He put up no argument, but opened the door and nearly rolled out of the car. He meekly followed Brennan up to the front door, and waited while she unlocked it.

Brennan walked in first. The first thing she noticed when she hit the light switch was that a man was standing by the bottom of her stairs. The second thing she noticed was the gun, held pointing steadily at her heart.

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_Nearly there, just one more part to go!_

_Thanks for staying with me, why not tell me what you think? I'm especially interested in which parts you felt worked best and which parts you felt worked least. _


	11. Chapter 10 The Intruder

_Well here it is: the final part of the story. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks for all the reviews!_

_No-one's offered to give me Bones or Booth yet, so I still don't own them and still don't make any money from this.  
_

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_**Thursday 12.42am**

Booth was tired. No, scrap that; he was exhausted. Nearly a week living rough, recovering from injuries, in fear of his life; no wonder he could hardly keep his eyes open.

He was vaguely aware that Bones was driving him home. At some point in the journey he realised that she meant her own home, but he made no comment.

When they pulled up outside her house, he looked at her without speaking.

She shrugged. "You said all agents were to be extra careful," she reminded him. "It seemed a bad idea to take you back to your place. After all, we know you're on his hit list. You can get some sleep at my place, then you'll be ready to go and help find him in the morning."

He nodded, too tired to put up any protest; and he couldn't see the point in arguing anyway. What she had said was right. It would be unwise to go back to his own place, with Paul Henderson on the loose. He groped for the door handle, swung the door open, and climbed out, staggering slightly. He closed the door gently and followed Bones up her front path. He stood gazing absently into the bushes as she fumbled for the right key. Was it only around twenty-four hours ago that he had waited there for her to return?

He did not realise she had opened the door until he heard her speak – and then he came wide awake, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over him.

"How did you get in here, and why are you pointing a gun at me?" she demanded, in an over-loud voice.

Bones was standing looking at an angle across the room. Booth could see no sign of the intruder, and realised that the intruder could not see him either; probably did not even know he was there. He pulled the edge of the door back towards him with one hand, while reaching for his gun with the other.

"Dr Brennan." Booth recognised that voice. It was Paul Henderson, the man who had held him at gunpoint in the warehouse, a week ago. But why the hell was he here?

"And you are?" Booth gave a wry smile at the calmness in Bones' voice.

"...going to kill you," the voice finished smoothly. Booth peered carefully round the edge of the door. Bones was still standing with her back mostly to the door, and he could still see no sign of the gunman.

"Oh come on, you can't just kill me like that," Brennan scoffed, and Booth watched as she moved gingerly forward a little and shifted her angle of sight. What the hell was she playing at?

"I assure you, I can," the gunman answered.

"No, I mean, you have to tell me why first," Bones assured him. "It's the way things are done, isn't it? You can kill me, yes, but where's the satisfaction in that? Shouldn't I know exactly why I should be killed first?"

Booth frowned. He still could not see the intruder from his position, and while they were still talking he was reluctant to blow his cover. But Bones was playing a dangerous game. She was moving again, and he realised what she was doing. He could work out where Henderson was standing from the way she was facing; she was trying to make him shift position so that he was no longer facing towards the door.

"You're number one on my list, Dr Brennan," Henderson explained. "You're the one person who can bring me down."

Booth could hear the puzzlement in Bones' voice. "How do you figure that out?"

"Those bodies in your lab. From New York. Once you've figured out who killed them, I'm in serious trouble."

Booth heard Bones laugh. "You killed two FBI agents and tried to kill two others, and you're worried about me tying you in to those bodies from New York?"

"Shut up!" Henderson seemed slightly thrown by Bones' reaction. "My men killed those agents, not me."

Booth remembered Angela telling them that Paul was a little crazy. No kidding there then! And he had Bones at gunpoint. Booth tightened the grip on his gun, watching Bones closely through the gap in the door. By the way she was standing now, the gunman must have shifted position to face her. He carefully eased the door further open and moved inside.

Now he could just about see Henderson. He watched as the man lowered his gun slightly, as if unsure of himself. Then the gun came up again and pointed at Bones.

That's when Booth shot him.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep out there!" complained Bones, as Booth stood over Henderson, removing his gun to safety and checking him for other weapons.

Booth grinned. "Just waiting for the right moment," he reassured her. He could see she was trembling slightly, and he put his arm round her shoulders for a moment and squeezed. "You did very well there."

She hugged him back, then started shaking, and he was alarmed for a moment. When he realised she was laughing, he was even more concerned.

"Looks like we've found a whole new way to fight crime!" she chuckled. "Just bring a body to my lab, we'll wait for the killer to reveal himself by attacking me, then you shoot him."

Booth looked over his shoulder at the new fridge and the freshly decorated kitchen and laughed ruefully.

"You know the funniest thing?" she went on. "I don't think there's any way we could have worked out who killed those New York bodies if it weren't for your friend here confessing!"

On the floor, Paul Henderson groaned. Booth made sure he was well aware of the gun pointing at him.

"Grab the phone," he told Bones. "I've got some phone calls to make."

**Thursday 3.10am**

The assorted teams of crime scene, medics and FBI agents had finally left. Brennan looked at Booth across the bloodstain on the floor. "That's going to be hell to get out," she complained, only half joking.

He collapsed onto the couch. "It can wait," he told her, closing his eyes.

"Are you falling asleep there?"

"I am asleep here."

She sat down beside him. "So it's all over?" she asked.

He nodded without opening his eyes. "It's all over."

She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Brennan was tired, and the couch was comfortable. That was her excuse when she woke up and realised that she had been asleep leaning against Booth on the couch for several hours. He was still fast asleep – but she wondered curiously about the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

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_Well that's it for now! coming soon will be my new story, The Ones You Love. All's fair in love and war - but some take the battle too personally. When an old enemy claims revenge on Booth the attacks come a little too close to home._

_In pre-production as I write this note, and hopefully to start publishing within the week!_

_Please review if you've enjoyed my story - what worked best? What worked least? Were the cliffhangers too much, not enough?_


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